At the same time, I learned that God had made an interesting decision when designing the human male, by linking his orgasmic ejaculations to his arse muscles. Each spurt of cum blasting out of Simon’s cock made his arse spasm and grip my cock. Although I hadn’t felt close to cumming just moments before, the constant gripping of my cock by his arse was too much to handle.
“Shit! Fuck! Yeah! Gonna cum! You’re gonna make me cum!”
“Cum! Cum in my arse! Breed me like a little bitch! Impregnate my arse! Fuck! Yeah! Do it! Fucking cum, you bastard! Cum in my arse!”
I had no intention of doing anything else, not that I am sure I could have done so with his arse muscles gripping my cock like a vice. With a final roar of “YEAH!!!”, I slammed my cock in as far as I could and unloaded my cum deep into his bowels.
“Fuck! I can feel you cumming in my arse! Shit! Fuck! Yeah! Oh, fuck! I’m gonna cum again!”
Simon’s poor, badly bruised and abused cock couldn’t handle the pressure. It tried to fight the good fight and cum, but could only manage a measly, pathetic squirt that wasn’t worthy of the name ‘orgasm’. But it did cause his arse muscles to contract one more time, milking the last drops of cum from my own cock.
Slowly, we collapsed to the bed from exhaustion. Simon lay in a pool of his own cum, and, as I withdrew myself, my cum began leaking out of his arse and dripping down his perineum to mingle on the bedspread with his. We lay, together, gasping for breath and sweating, profusely.
I don’t know how long it took me to realise that I could hear a noise that usually had me responding in a second, even if I had just been sleeping deeply, but I slowly came to the realisation that I could hear Jade crying in her room.
I leapt off the bed and, not bothering with clothes (she was a year old and had seen me walking into her room naked after getting out of bed many times before), I ran to her room and picked her up. I held her, close to my chest and cooed and made those silly, soothing sounds parents make to little crying babies that make fuck-all sense, but which seem to calm them down.
Within a minute, she had, indeed, calmed down and, after a quick nappy sniff to confirm that she didn’t need changing, I settled her down and kissed her forehead. I stroked her hair from her face and rubbed my finger on her cheek, still muttering baby nonsense. She smiled at me a little, but her eyes were already closing and less than a minute after I laid her down, she was flat out again.
I pulled the blanket over her, stroked her little face one more time and went back to my room. Whereupon, I came across another little face that was fast asleep. Poor little simon – the exercise had clearly been too much for him. His mouth was wide open and he was snoring loudly. I smirked at him, covered him up as best I could with an old dressing gown I had (he was still lying atop the duvet in the puddle of cum) and slipped into the bed beside him.
I don’t remember putting my head on the pillow, but when I opened my eyes at just before seven o’clock, it was on there, so I can only assume I managed it somehow.
The bed next to me was empty. I dragged my arse out of bed and wandered around the house.
Simon was nowhere to be seen.
Our relationship didn’t last much longer, I was sad to discover. Simon had a boyfriend to whom, just a day after I awoke to find him not in my bed, he got engaged and would marry later that year. By that time, he and I were no longer even on speaking terms, though I never understood what it was I did wrong. I tried to talk to him and got nowhere. My texts were ignored if they were personal and responded to in a monosyllabic way if they were about work. He simply fucked me and fucked off. I can’t say it didn’t hurt.
Simon died about two years after he got married and about six months after he got divorced. I don’t know how, exactly, but he was found in a car which was partially submerged in a river. He’d been dead for some time before they found him.
I read about it in the paper and I couldn’t help but cry. Jade, who was at home when I read the news – it being a Saturday – couldn’t understand why daddy was crying. She was only three and a bit by then. I explained that an old friend had gone away and, in that lovely way of a three-year-old, she simply accepted that and went off to watch Peppa Pig.
Over the first eighteen years of Jade’s life, I had sex with about a dozen or so different guys and maybe half that many women. I admit it; I enjoyed sex with both genders, but was always careful after that first time with Simon. I always wore protection – especially with the women. The last thing I needed was a half-sister or half-brother to Jade trying to take my attention away from my little girl.
None of these relationships lasted more than a few weeks and most were over before the sun rose up. I enjoyed sex, but I didn’t need it. Going without for a few weeks or months (or, at one point, just short of two years) was not a problem for me.
Jade, on the other hand, became my world. I watched her grow up to be an amazing young woman who was both athletic and smart – a combination that made her extremely happy, but also made had her treated like a plague victim by most boys. The smart boys were afraid of her athleticism and the athletes didn’t want a smart girlfriend. Teenage boys can be wankers at times. (Not like that!)
Jade also found it difficult to make friends with girls. Her interests were too diverse for most of them. Again, the smart girls didn’t want to be friends with an athlete, whilst the sporty girls were afraid she was too clever for them. Teenage girls can be wankers at times, too!
Nevertheless, Jade didn’t give two shits about her lack of girl-friends (or girlfriends) or boyfriends. She had me and that was enough for both of us. I was a willing taxi driver, team supporter, chef, cleaner, ironer and storyteller. Even into her late teens, she demanded that I read her a chapter before bed. Some people (sick minded individuals for the most part) might think that odd or even perverse, but it was what Jade wanted and what Jade wanted daddy gave her, as long as it was within daddy’s power to give it. If my little girl wanted a story before bed, even as she turned eighteen, then a story before bed was what she got and fuck the rest of you if you don’t like it.
As she grew older, Jade started to do more around the house. She would clean and vacuum and polish once a week. She would attempt to cook (though neither of us can claim to be any fucking good at it, even now), but her one attempt at ironing almost burned the house down and ruined my favourite shirt at the same time, so I got lumbered with that crappy job permanently.
It was also rare for anyone but me to call her Jade. When she was first born, Sarah regularly merged her forenames, Jade Louise, together and began to call her J-Lo, like Jennifer Lopez, who was a minor big thing at the time. As Jade grew up, I also started calling her J-Lo and the nickname stuck. It was so common, that even her name on the back of one of her goalkeeper shirts was written as J-Lo.